Tragic Love
by bluferret
Summary: "Is it pity I'm asking for? Merlin knows I can't tell anymore." A haphazard jumble of daily thoughts inside Lily Evans' head. Abandoned.
1. Pity Party

**Disclaimer:** Insert your own disclaimer here.

(You do know what goes there don't you?)

**Bluferret:** I've been in a terribly depressing angsty mood lately. So in _**'Lily's Cest Le Vie'**_ i've decided to return the plotline back to happy-go-lucky Lily after one more chapter of angst. Then i'll be channeling all my angst here and my giddyness there!

* * *

**_A Tragic Love_**

This is me, Lily Evans.

I seem normal.

I have normal friends.

I have normal hobbies.

Not.

Who is normal anyway?

Define normal for me and i'll go hunt for a normal person.

Let me tell you, I won't find one.

And I know it, because, no one is normal.

I'm not normal.

Your not normal.

This is my life, as told by me.

If I were to write my own summary you'd be garunteed to see the words, tragedy, dirty laundry and 'insider' in it.

But I can't.

So you won't.

* * *

You know how some books state that their memoirs or true diaries of an anonymous person?

Well, in my opinion it's all a bunch of bull----.

Why?

Well, usually if their parents die they are terribly devastated and can't go on, or they stay with an abusive person because they need them more than anything, etc.

You can go on without your parents, especially if you hate them.

Your probably thinking that one could never hate thier parents, just dislike them, but you're wrong.

If your parents die and you want them too, it could be your savior.

(I'll explain my theory later.)

No one needs an abusive person, but if the person is mentally ill it's hard to see the true person behind the illness.

It's hard too see if it's the person's maniac self or the real self that's causing harm.

It's most often the abuser who needs the abusee.

But, what do I know right?

I've just been living in this hellhole for sixteen years now, no biggie.

That's what I keep telling myself anyway.

* * *

No one is normal.

No one has a normal family.

Everyone has dirty laundry.

Some people share it at thier own risk, and others hide it for all it's worth.

They don't want to hide it, but thier afraid of the consequences.

It's not that they don't know what they are, it's more like the fact that they do know what they are.

You can always tell when an outsider tells a story that only an insider can understand.

Well, maybe YOU can't, but any insider can.

Dirty laundry can be anything from the fact that your ten year old brother still sucks his thumb, to the point that your entire family smokes pot.

Anything anyone else shouldn't know or your family doesn't want them to know, is dirty laundry.

Who doesn't have it?

But some is worse than others.

Some is far more lethal, while others are simply embarrasing beyond words.

* * *

You know what's really sad?

How in books the people with the worst dirty laundry, at least have something to hold them up; popularity, looks, great friends, etc.

But books aren't true.

In the real world there are anorexics and bulimics around every corner.

There are hideous suicidal people acting as friends every block.

Unpopular people addicted to drugs are less than five feet away from you every second.

Depressed lonely people are usually those who seem the happiest, angry people are the one's who seem the calmest.

The sad thing is none of them are ever helped.

None of them ever tell thier secrets.

No one ever learns of thier problems, for to the outside world they are happy, they are normal.

And normal is not most popular in school or most sought after person, normal is ordinary looks, ordinary status.

* * *

If you think someone's mother is exceptionally nice, think again.

Family acts different towards eachother when there's company, then when it's just them.

You only see part of a person when thier out on daily errands.

You know how in books or movies how they make it painfully oblivious that someone is abusive, depressed, or on pot?

In our world it's not so simple, the only way you could tell is if you could become invisible and watch them when thier all alone.

You can never truly know someone enough to see the whole of them.

It's depressing, but no one ever said the truth was a happy thing, did they?

* * *

Your now very confused, am I right?

So many questions are probably running through your head at the moment.

I feel dizzy just thinking about it.

Let me help you out...  
  
I was talking about:  
  
**Dirty laundry:** A family secret that would be considered abnormal.  
  
**outsider:** someone who doesn't truly understand what goes on in an tragedy trodden family, since they've never expierenced it.  
  
**insider:** The exact opposite of an outsider.  
  
**tragedy memior/diary/autobiograaphy/biography books:** all completely written by fools who no not of the life of an insider, yet think they do.  
  
**tragedy:** living in a drug addict, alcoholic, death, suicidal, pregnant under 16, abusive, smoker under 16, depressed, anorexic, bulimic, cutting or mentally ill or other similar environment.  
  
Get it yet?

* * *

What i'm saying is that I am one of those insiders with way too much dirty laundry.

Who never tells a soul about any of it for the life of her, because she does not want to be responsible for sending 67 people to jail.

She does not want to be isolated from her family because she hates them, yet she loves certain one's with bad traits.

She does not want her family to be known as the one in which everyone is in jail or prison.

Then again, if you mention the family name to a policeman they'll know who my family is and be out to get me for all of eternity.

What i'm saying is i'm here to give you the absoloute truth about tragedy trodden lives, but if it's edited down to nothing but flowers and smiles don't blame me...

* * *

And just a little forewarning, I don't wan't to be pitied.

No normal person wants to be pitied.

Notice how I said normal person.

I know quite a few people who want to be pitied, their dirty laundry is out and waving for all to see and they really don't care.

It really pisses me off too, because others are worse off then them, far worse.

(I don't necessrily mean myself either!)

Don't pity me.

There are others who need the pity far more than me, the homeless for example, or the dead.

They need it.

Not me.  
  
P.S That was one more reason us insiders hide our dirty laundry so well.

Others are worse off and we know it, so we don't want to make a big deal of it.

Or, I don't anyway.


	2. Family Ties

**Disclaimer:** You know it!  
  
**Bluferret:** Sorry the chapter's so long, I may split it up later for yall, I didn't have enough time today...Love ya!  
  
**P.S.** I want everyone to be able to relate to this story in some way. I'm trying not to make it sound fake, unrealistic, anything but real. Please tell me if it sounds like any of the above! (Even real, just so i'll know that i'm doing my job!) Love Ya!  
  
**To my only reviewer:** I totally agree with everything you said and i'll always be here to understand ya! (I just wish somebody would be there to understand me!)  
  
**P.P.S**. Hey, you know how in books some charecters lives revolve solely around school? Well, not everybody's does. Some, like Lily, have two lives and two personalities. A home life and personality and a school life and personality. For example, she use to tell her mom anything and she'd understand, since they were in the same muck together. (Like a best friend.) But, with friends, she couldn't, because of the dirty laundry prob...(Like a mother and school. What a flip-flop, huh?) Just thought you should know a bit more about Lily and her life!

* * *

_Floorboard's filled with baby toys, _

_An' empty coke bottles an' coffee cups. _

_Drivin' through the rain with no radio, _

_Tryin' not to wake her up. _

_Cell 'phone says "low battery", _

_God, what if I break down? _

_I'm just lookin' for an exit with a lotta lights, _

_A safe little interstate town.  
  
Just a cheap hotel, _

_With a single bed, _

_And cable TV Is good enough for me an' Emily.  
  
Some day, when she's old enough, _

_She's gonna start askin' questions about him. _

_Some kid at school brings his _

_Dad for show an' tell, _

_An' gets her little mind a-wonderin' _

_"Where's my Daddy? _

_Do I have one? _

_"Does he not love me like you do?" _

_Oh, maybe I'll find someone to love the both of us, _

_An' I'll tell her when she's old enough to know the truth.  
  
Will it break her heart? _

_Will she understand, _

_That I had to leave? _

_That's what was best for me an' Emily.  
  
That house was never clean enough his dinner never warm enough._

_Nothing I did was ever good enough to make him happy. _

_So, I guess, he gave me what he thought I deserved, _

_But it would kill me if he ever raised his hand to her.  
  
Big rigs are throwin' rain on my windshield, _

_An' I feel like they're laughin' at me. _

_Fin'lly the storm is lettin' up, _

_An' the mornin' is breakin' free.  
  
It's a brand new day, _

_It's a second chance. _

_Yesterday is just a memory, _

_For me an' Emily. _

_Ah.  
  
Floorboard is filled with baby toys, _

_An' empty coke bottles an' coffee cups. _

_Least there's one good thing that he gave me, _

_An' she's startin' to wake up._  
  
**Me and Emily Racheal Proctor**

* * *

I hate this song.  
  
I envy Emily.  
  
I myself am still stuck in the house was never clean enough, the dinner never warm enough section.  
  
The only thing is, he'll hit anyone except me.  
  
No matter what I say, no matter what I do, he never does it.  
  
Sure, he'll threaten too, but he won't.  
  
He loves me.  
  
I know this.  
  
But, I hate him.  
  
I hate him, for abusing mom.  
  
I hate him, for being an alcoholic.  
  
I hate him, for buying and selling selling numerous cars per year illegally, then gambling off the money he makes.  
  
I hate him, for being selfish, arrogant, and perverted.  
  
I hate him, for never hitting me.  
  
I hate him, for hitting my brother.  
  
I hate him, for going to bars, shooting pool, always getting into fights. and going to jail.  
  
I hate him, for not taking his meds properly.  
  
I hate him for changing her, from a nice person to a bitch.  
  
I hate him, for talking to me like i'm four, every waking second of my life.  
  
I HATE HIM!!!

* * *

I hate her too.  
  
I hate her for not leaving.  
  
I hate her for thinking it's because he's ill.  
  
Newsflash mom, bipolar people are also known as maniac-depressive, if it's all the illness, then where the hell is the depressive side of it!?  
  
I hate her for being such a bloody hypocrite.  
  
I hate her for being so dependent.  
  
I hate her for being fun one instant, and a out-to-get-you-bitch the next.  
  
I hate her for always telling me i'm extremely important to her , then saying i'm worthless.  
  
I hate her for overlooking everything I do.  
  
I clean the entire bathroom, my room, the living room, half the kitchen, the dining room, and do half the laundry, yet she never fails to tell me i'm a lazy procrastinator, who lays on her bum all day.  
  
Nice, real nice.  
  
I hate her for being so damned depressed, when I already have that role.  
  
I hate her for lying to me.  
  
I HATE HER!!!

* * *

My half-brother A. on the other hand I haven't seen in five years.  
  
He's my dad's son and as I remember he was a juvenile delinquint.  
  
He shoplifted, he was in a gang, he was a bully, and a major troublemaker.  
  
I don't know him anymore though.  
  
But, from his past, i'll say he's been in jail a thousand times.

* * *

My other half-brother B., from my mom's side, lives with my grandparents.  
  
Right down the street.  
  
He's goth and you can totally tell.  
  
(Not just from what he wears, what he says)  
  
Were pretty close and basically have the same views about life.  
  
It sucks.  
  
We have the same views about parents too.  
  
Their fucked up.  
  
But, what do we know right?  
  
Were just two kids living in our own private hell.  
  
My grandparents are total control freaks, as well as clean freaks.  
  
In a world of utter perfection my brother rebeled, becoming his goth self, how did they react?  
  
They freaked, but life goes on.  
  
From what I hear, my mom was like that too.  
  
Only she went farther.  
  
From what I hear, she went deeper though.  
  
She was anorexic, bulimic, a cutter, disowned and way depressed.  
  
I never would've thought...

* * *

My mom's side of the family except for my goth brother and herself is completely perfect.  
  
Or so it seems.  
  
Thier private lives are probably way complicated with all the secrecy going on.  
  
I mean, if my private family is like it is, I can't imagine what the extendeds are like.  
  
My fathers side is the most fucked up in the world.  
  
For one, it's huge, there's an adoptive and a blood side.  
  
For two, Evans is the most common surname seen on the jailhouse/prisonhouse listings, no lie.  
  
Let's see where to begin...

* * *

Practically all the adults in the fam are alcoholics.  
  
Practically all the adults and kids over thirteen are addicted to some kind of drug.  
  
Coke, pot, meth, crack, you name it, someone uses it.  
  
Everybody smokes.  
  
All the kids have shoplifted for the hell of it, at least once.  
  
Two of my cousins have been known to run away from prison.  
  
An uncle and two cousins have been known to abuse thier girls.  
  
A 'dear' uncle of mine has been known to rape young teens.  
  
A cousin of mine has bulimia, unbeknown to everyone else.  
  
I have two aunts and five cousins, with more than five kids each, all born before the mom's were eighteen!  
  
My aunt Grace is suicidal, believe me, she is, I know, trust me.  
  
No one else knows though.  
  
My family is full to the brim with mentally ill nutjobs.  
  
There is a party held at a family members house every friday, it's the kind of party you see on t.v.  
  
The rock hard, bad-ass kind of party.  
  
three cousins of mine have been caught acting as whores.  
  
eight cousins and two aunts, have been pregnant before the age of fifteen.  
  
The worst punishment anyone's ever gotton?  
  
Simply a grounding, or short jail sentence.  
  
With an occaisonal prison sentence.  
  
Thank god, we aren't religous, because we are all going to hell.  
  
Thank god, I'm only here for summer and holidays.  
  
I can barely stand it now, let alone all year.

* * *

Oh?  
  
I forgot to tell you?  
  
Well, here it is...  
  
I'm a witch.  
  
I practice withcraft.  
  
I'm not a wiccan.  
  
I'm a blood witch, not a say-it-and-be-it kind of witch.  
  
So you could say I get a break.  
  
But a break isn't good enough.

* * *

I want them all to die and leave me alone.  
  
I mean, yeah, in a way being bad is fun, really fun.  
  
But it gets old.  
  
Partying every night, getting drunk, stoned, and having sex, is not my thing.  
  
I prefer to hurl, slice, and mope.  
  
I once wished they would all die.  
  
It seems to be working.  
  
My aunts.  
  
A few cousins.  
  
A lot of second cousins.  
  
My parents.  
  
(Did I mention that I hate them?)  
  
Sure, I feel guilty, but I know it's not my fault.  
  
They died from, illness, suicide, infantry, and simply keeling over, no biggie, not the wish.  
  
The family's just as big and loud as ever, anyway.

* * *

I've never told anyone this much about my family, before.  
  
Why?  
  
Like I said before, others are worse off then me and I know it.  
  
Plus, I don't want to sound selfless and pity pleading.  
  
(I do though don't I?)  
  
Welcome to my fucked up family everyone, glad you could make it to my life.

* * *

By the way, FYI, IF, I'm not offended by the words 'gay' ,' retard', 'crazy', 'insane', 'mental', 'anorexic' etc. etc.  
  
Like books and crappy movies say we are...  
  
No one I know has ever burst out in tears, or gotton all huffy.  
  
As far as I know no one else in the fam is bothered in the least by it either.  
  
In all reality, we use the words everyday.  
  
Not just in refering to a cousins real problems either...  
  
More like teasing insults.

* * *

To the outside world, though, we are a perfect family.  
  
Even to the extended family we are!  
  
We know about thier problems, because they help one another when thier down, and thier not afraid of our judgement from others... 

Thier not afraid to let others help them.  
  
Mom is afraid.  
  
She's afraid they'll judge us, if we tell them our problems.  
  
Who are they to judge us?

I mean, look at them.

They are just like us.

The extends, that is.

* * *

All the damn secrecy, is killing us, ripping us to shreds.  
  
We are dying, but no one knows.  
  
Because, we seem perfect.  
  
To everyone, we are perfect.  
  
But in reality, we are everything but.  
  
No, I am everything but.  
  
There is no longer a we, and I know it.  
  
I love it.  
  
Being an I, for once.  
  
I love it.  
  
And i'm going to hell for it.

* * *

Welcome.

Welcome to the Evans family.


	3. metamorphosis

**Bluferret:** I think this chappie is totally crappie...Tell me if you agree, please!

* * *

No one understands why I strive to be so different. No one even tries to. Every day I am different.

It scares them. I notice them cower on sundays.

I feel them laugh with me on thursdays.

I watch them stare on mondays.

I feel thier sympathy on wednesdays.

But, what they don't realize is that it's my code.

My own personal code.

Every day I am someone else.

I sprout a different attitude.

I walk and talk a new lingo every day.

To be different each day, you must be an actress.

If you strive to let people know the real you, if you strive to stand out, if you strive to be your own person, you can't be me.

I am not an individual, I am a slave.

I am a slave to myself.

I'm stuck in a world of chaos, a world where i'm all alone.

A world where no one cares, about who you are, or what you feel.

They think they know me.

They think they care about me.

But, if I were to die tomorrow, they wouldn't miss me, they'd miss someone else, someone they think is me.

But, isn't.

I don't exactly try to hide myself, it just happens.

Like the sunset, it just is.

* * *

Often, I wish long and hard for someone to care, for someone to need me.

No one ever truly does.

I'm not bieng ungrateful, it's true, no one needs me.

They need Lil, they don't need Lily.

They don't even know Lily, they know Lil.

Often, I wish upon every star, that Lil would be dead when I awoke.

I loathe Lil, I hate everything about her.

I hate her daily code, I hate her laugh, I hate her nature, I hate her helpfulness, I hate her family, I hate her friends, I hate her boyfriend, I hate her perfectness, I hate her happiness.

I want, I need her to die, I need her to leave my body.

I feel the strain she puts on me every second, but, it's not that easy to change her.

It's not easy to change and expect to be accepted again.

Back, to your friends, back to your boyfriend.

But, they aren't my friends, they never were mine.

They were Lil's, and Lil cannot exist while I do.

* * *

I don't feel strong enough yet, to break away from Lil.

To admit my problems, to admit my family's problems.

In all reality, I want everyone to know our dirty laundry, but i'm afraid.

Afraid of what will become of my family, afraid of bieng accepted because of pity.

I don't want that, that's worse then bieng accepted because of your style.

There are people worse off in my school, i'm afraid they'll think I want pity.

I'm afraid they'll think I believe, that I'm worse off then them.

I don't want them to think that, so i'll go on, i'll let Lil posess me for a while more.

I'll let Lil solve others problems, before her own.

That has and always will her way, but will it be mine?

Will it be Lily's?

I don't know.

I don't know if i'll ever know.

* * *

My life and it's tragedy, goes beyond my family.

It goes deep down into the depths of my own soul.

I have my own problems.

Problems that at times I can't control.

That at times I feel haunted by.

I feel as if I can never let go of them.

As if I can never find my way back, back to the bliss that used to be in my life.

Might as well say, that I want to be fifteen again.

I don't want to understand the world, as I do now.

I want to understand it as I used to, simple.

My problems engulf me, they swallow me whole and never let me go.

They stalk me around every corner, they stalk me no matter how many miles I go.

They drive me crazy, they won't ever leave me alone.

I am never alone, anymore.

My thoughts, my cravings are enough for twenty people.

I wish it weren't that way, but wishes have never come true for me.

* * *

I've been pregnant.

I've gotten an abortion.

I've attempted suicide.

I've been bulimic.

I've cut myself.

I've run away from home.

I've smoked, I've done drugs.

I've gotten tipsy numerous times.

I'm like everyone else in my family now.

Yet, I've never gotten a single grade lower then a B.

Sad, isn't it?

People say that when you have good grades and they suddenly drop, that something's up.

Well, mine have never dropped.

So no one complains and no one suspects a thing.

I'm not saying that i'm proud of what i've done.

But I am not ashamed, I made the choices.

I've never given anyone a reason to suspect me of anything.

That's good for my family, but, is that good for me?

* * *

I've tried calling out for help.

I've tried so freaking hard.

I've worn short sleeves the days after I cut myself.

I told my friends the truth, about why I had been in the hospital wing, I stepped off the tower.

I told my friends about how I broke my arm, I threw myself down the stairs.

I told my boyfriend that I tossed my cookies after eating, numerous times.

But, they make excuses for me.

You got a paper cut, you poor thing!

You slipped off the tower, ow!?

Your stomach didn't agree with the food, i'm sorry.

I swear to god and merlin, that they are all blind.

* * *

Every summer I go to a phsyciatrist.

My aunt makes me.

I don't tell her a thing.

She's probably listened to 100 people before me, complain about thier crappy lives.

She doesn't need me to add to her collection.

So I lie.

Life is good.

I am happy.

I don't smoke anymore.

She buys it.

I think she's just glad to get rid of a patient.

So I usually go back to my Aunt's a month early.

* * *

I usually go clubbing with my cousins.

We are underage, but as long as we pay to get in, they don't care.

More money for them.

I care, though.

I want them to reject us.

I want them to call the police on us.

I want the police to save me from this hell hole.

I want to be a good girl again.

I want to pretend my family didn't make me this way.

* * *

But, like I said, my dreams and wishes have and will never come true.


	4. Artificial Reality

**bluferret**: Do ya think this chappie is a bit disjointed? Please tell me...I think it is. Review and i'll send you a thousand dollars! (JK!)

* * *

My life is like the worst movie ever made.  
  
Seriously, if my life were to be made into a movie, all the viewers would complain.  
  
"It's so unrealistic!"  
  
"It sets a bad exaple for younger ones!"  
  
"Oh, puh-lease, i've seen worse!"  
  
"What kind of deranged nut wrote this thing!?"  
  
"Hello! Where's the happy ending?"  
  
But, they'd know, deep down, that it was the most realistic movie they'd have ever seen.  
  
They'd know that it was just like thier secret lives.  
  
Just like thier dirty laundry.  
  
But, my life isn't a movie.  
  
So it won't ever happen, no one will complain about realism and life will go on.  
  
Maybe i'll die here, before it gets any worse...  
  
But then i'd feel guilty, leaving behind all those worse off then me.  
  
Maybe I should start a club, the 'I want to die' club.  
  
No, too oblivious.  
  
How about the 'Life Sucks' club?  
  
Or not.

* * *

I always feel so unreal when I walk down the streets.  
  
Like, i'm disconnected from everything and everyone.  
  
Like, I am of another species, an invisible species.  
  
Everyone's too absorbed in thier problems, to notice others.  
  
I realize that.  
  
I want to make a change, i've been making a change.

* * *

I've been bieng selfless.  
  
I've been helping others.  
  
In a way I don't want to.  
  
I want to throw a fit, I want to scream and shout, I want to cry.  
  
I want to protest, "What about me!? Does anyone care about me!?"  
  
But I don't, I wont, I can't.  
  
It's too dangerous.  
  
It's like asking to be put in a mental hospital.  
  
So instead, I help those in more need then me.  
  
It royally pisses me off, to see them so damn happy in the end.  
  
"Oh, thank you Lil! I finally can sleep at night without wanting to cut myself, due to all the pressure my family has been putting on me!"  
  
Sickening really, especially since I myself still wake up in the middle of the night craving the blade.

* * *

Maybe it's just ironic.  
  
The one who helps others, is the one who needs help.  
  
That sounded like I was asking for pity again, didn't it?  
  
Telling my story turns out to be harder then I thought.  
  
I'm not asking for pity, i'm asking for help.

* * *

It feels like i'm in someone elses body when I speak, when I walk, when I do anything.  
  
It feels like i've never been myself.  
  
It feels like i'll never be myself.  
  
I don't even know who I am anymore.

* * *

I used to adopt peices of others and make them my own.  
  
The way Alice writes her D's?  
  
I do it too.  
  
The way a classmate holds her jazz hands strong yet graceful?  
  
I do it too.  
  
The way Marcia would tap her quill on the table?  
  
I do it too.  
  
The way my cousin says something sarcastic to everyone after they say something?  
  
I do it too.  
  
The way my sister always played with her ring when she was bored?  
  
I do it too.  
  
The way my friend rubs her ear when she's nervous?  
  
I do it too.  
  
The way my nieghbor cracks his knuckles every so often?  
  
I do it too.  
  
I guess you could say that I am insecure.

* * *

I remember when I was younger.  
  
I was so assertive, I had so many friends.  
  
I had such happiness, even though my home was crap.  
  
I was truly happy then.  
  
I was able to look through my family's faults.  
  
I wasn't afraid of what others would think, if I wore the latest trend or not.  
  
Lately if you wear the trend, you'll be labeled as a wannabe.  
  
Maybe I don't want to be in.  
  
Maybe I just like the clothes.  
  
I remember when I was nice to everyone.  
  
I remember when I wasn't so heartless.  
  
Sure, I help people, but it doesn't mean i'm nice about it!  
  
I remember when I wasn't pessimistic.  
  
I remember when I wasn't so hopeless.  
  
I remember when I was hopeful.

* * *

I have no hope anymore.  
  
Life will go on.  
  
I can't make it better, for it is what it is.  
  
I didn't ask for this life, it came to me.  
  
But that's okay, someone has to live it.  
  
Some are living in far worse conditions then I.  
  
I must always remember that.  
  
For if I forget, then I will be lost.  
  
I have nothing to live for, yet I feel as if life is better then it could be.  
  
Does that make any sense?  
  
It doesn't does it?  
  
Perhaps someday you will understand.  
  
For today, it's okay to be confused.  
  
I am.

* * *

There's a light up ahead.  
  
No, it's not a glimmer of hope.  
  
It's the train station.  
  
Today is the day I get to go home.  
  
Home bieng the opposite of what it should be.  
  
This year I intend to be myself.  
  
It may throw my friends, but they'll get used to it.

* * *

I no longer want to hide.  
  
I no longer wish to be someone else.  
  
For after graduation, I will be gone.  
  
I will be far away from the hell I once knew.  
  
I will never see them again, so help me merlin.  
  
I will be myself for a change.  
  
I will become who I really am, who I once was.  
  
I will become the girl, that time forgot.  
  
I will become inocent again.  
  
Or so i'll say.

* * *

Look at that, I just showed a bit of hope.  
  
Hope that is truly worthless.  
  
I can't just leave.  
  
They are my family, no matter what I say, i'll always feel something for them.  
  
Not exactly love, but perhaps a feeling of remorse.  
  
I think i'll leave after I give them a note and personal good bye.  
  
No matter what they say, that's too bad.  
  
Nothing they say can make up for the loss I have experienced.  
  
For the loss anyone like me has expierenced.  
  
Life may get better, it may not, but what I know is this.  
  
It will finally be my own, my own life.  
  
I will no longer be trapped inside someone elses.  
  
I will finally rid myself from Lil.  
  
I will. 


	5. Pointless & Worthless

Fanfictions' new editing system keeps freezing my computer! So i'm kinda in a hurry to get this chapter up, sorry for any grammer mistakes! Bluferret

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Fuck me.   
Fuck me to hell.   
Wait, i'm already in it.   
Okay, so fuck me to the moon.   
That's not what I meant, by the way.

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I hate myself.   
I really do.   
It sickens me, how weak I am.   
What strong person inflicts bodily harm upon themselves?   
What strong person feels too weak to go on? What strong person wants to die?   
What strong person starves themselves on purpose?   
I am not strong.   
I need a life.   
I need to become a strong person.   
But I can't.   
I am too helpless.   
Sad but true.   
I really do need a life.   
A better one, I mean...

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I remember it all.   
I couldn't help it.   
I was tired.   
I was tired of thier meaningless words.   
I was tired of thier fake smiles.   
So I slapped them off.   
For no reason.   
My friends.

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I have never done that before.   
I have never lost my temper with a friend.   
Not ever.   
I am losing myself.   
I'm disappearing.   
Or maybe i'm already gone.   
I glared at them.   
I snapped at them.   
I hissed cruel words at them.   
Its truly amazing they didn't march out of the room in a huff.   
I can't say that i'm sorry.   
I'm not.

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Life is not as easy as they make it out to be.   
All about boys and beauty.   
I don't think so.   
Even if it were, i'd still be at the bottom of the chain.   
I'd still be a nothing.   
Others think i'm something.   
A tiny something, but still something.   
They see a lie.   
They should be seeing nothing, they should.

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Besides they thought I was joking.   
They always think i'm joking.   
They think I have some sort of twisted sense of humor.   
Please.   
Shows how well they know me.   
Whenever I joke they take me seriously.   
Fucked up isn't it?

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I take care though.   
I watch what I say around Loralai.   
She knows more then the others, no offense to them.   
She was once placed in a muggle institution.   
For bulimia.   
She is painfully honest with us though.   
So i'm sure the only way she'd know if something was amiss, is if she were in the loo with them.   
Sad but true, that's my Loralai for you.   
Sometimes I find myself wondering, Do I really know my friends at all?   
I mean, come on, they dont know me, so why would I know them?   
What if their secret lives are just like mine?   
What if?

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It depresses me to think about it.   
Someone who understands, right beside me all this time.   
Someone to talk to all this time, but no, it's too dangerous to ask them.   
Cause what if they aren't?   
Like me that is.

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I want a best friend.   
I do.   
More than anything.   
I want a true best friend.   
the kind that you truly know.   
the kind you can laugh with.   
the kind you can cry with.   
the kind you can yell at yet, run to at the same time.   
the kind you can love, no matter what.   
the kind that understands life.   
the kind that understands you.

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In another way I want someone with a tragic life too.   
Someone with a simple life could never get me.   
Never.   
I need a friend I can trust to hide my dirty laundry, as if it were her own.   
I need a friend whom will let me do the same.   
Sad really.   
How can I get a friend like this if I myself can't open up to my current friends?   
She'd have to be the first to spill.   
Like she would.   
Even then I may think her too overbearing for doing so.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

So I guess you could say, that i'm bieng difficult.   
I want that so much yet It'll never happen.   
I wont let it.   
I want tom, but it's impossible.   
It's too dangerous.   
I told you, life sucks.   
I'll tell you again.   
Life sucks.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

What's the point of life anyway?   
what?   
Tell me, I want to know.   
Because, I can't seem to figure it out.   
Is life really about reproducing, hmm?   
That's what it seems like.   
Finish school, get married, have kids, the end.   
If it is, then I might as well jump off a cliff now, while i'm ahead.

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What is the purpose of life?   
Some say it is to be recognized, to be rich or famous.   
But let us face it, not everyone is destined for greatness.   
Not everyone on earth will be remembered.   
I wont.   
Only those who are lucky enough to be noticed, to be discovered are those who are remembered.   
Actors, actresses, singers, artists.   
really, how many can there be?   
A lot.   
But only a handful will be recognized throughout history.   
Only the lucky ones will be remembered.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You always hear about them complaining.   
Everyone keeps putting things about me in the tabloids!   
Thier lying about me on TV!   
hello, you went into the biz.   
You knew it could have happened.   
You asked for the fame, so deal with it.   
besides your rich, so who really cares what others say?

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Seriously, some people are so greedy.   
Always wanting more and more. I hate how some people say others are living 'beyond thier means.   
What the hell does that mean? We are all born equal.   
Money and fame do not define our means.   
Talent does not define our means.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I can't sing.   
I can't paint.   
I can't dress fashionably.   
I'm not absoloutely stunning.   
That does not mean that I deserve less then everyone else.   
All that means, is that I am not as talented as Hilary Duff.   
Whoo big whoop.   
I am me.   
No one can change that.   
no one can tell me that i'm living beyond my means.   
Cause i'm not.   
I'm not saying I deserve more then I have.   
I'm saying that I can have as much as Paris Hilton and not be living beyond my means.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I get that some people are ill, I get that some have worse lives then others.   
I get that, I do.   
But couldn't we try,   
Just once.   
To understand?   
To understand the needs of others?   
Could we put aside our differences, could we put aside our sterotypes?   
Could we live and let live?   
No.   
We couldn't.   
Not now, not ever.   
For we are a greedy race.   
We are consumed with our own problems.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I don't know why.   
What I do know is that there is no reason to be greedy.   
Life is pointless.   
So why try to understand?   
Why?   
What's the difference?   
What?   
Then again, why be so absorbed in our own lives?   
We could be making others lives better.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I know this.   
But I, just like you, am a greedy person.   
I want a better life.   
For all I know, I was destined to lead this life forever.   
So what's the diff?   
I'd be wasting my time anyways.   
We'd all die in the end.   
In the end none of us would be remembered.   
Nothing that we did would be remembered.   
We would be forgotton.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I've accepted this.   
I've realized that there is no point to life.   
It was a person playing a game.   
When he created this place he was bored.   
He was an Einstien, simply creating out of sheer boredom.   
Thats what I think anyways.   
Maybe after life i'll have the joy of floating around in a black void.   
Bored as hell in there, I bet.   
I can't wait!

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Once again, I, lily Evans, have realized an important fact of life.   
Life goes by more smoothly if you keep these in mind.   
You can't forget one or the whole thing becomes pointless. You see you can skip the pain and suffering.   
You can skip the anger and remorse.   
You can skip the heartache.   
Pathetic and weak I know.   
But true all the same.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You think those things make life worth living don't you?   
In that case I've already lived and i'm ready to die.   
I've learned a little late that life is overrated.   
Life is what you make it.   
Another quote created by some famous person with way too much cash.   
They probably had enough cash to travel the world ten times over and still get to see all the sites!   
Anyhow heres the list,

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1. People really don't care what you think.   
2. People do care about how much money you have so they can sucker you out of it.   
3. No one truly cares about your inner person, it's all about what grades you got on your test and how you look.   
4. If you die tomarrow it makes no difference to everyone else.   
5. Your parents truly don't know whats best for you; I find they were always wrong, but hey, who knows.   
6. Your friends can't always help you or know what to say, even if they say they could or would.   
7. No one can truly understand any problems your going through.   
8 Life's a bitch, always, you just don't always notice it.   
9 Everyone is greedy and self-centered no matter what they may appear.   
10. Life is pointless, in the end we are, we were, nothing.

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Perhaps someday my pointless life will have a meaning.   
To record all the facts of life, that you ought to know, but were never told, my own meaning.   
It'll be a harsh reality, but someone has to tell it like it is, right?   
Right.


	6. Karma Sucks

Bluferret: This chapter took me forever to write...and I think it's the worst yet, do you? Let me know sil vous plait!

PS I had to replace bar seperators for my own tildas...Once againfanfics editing system's freezing my computer...WAAHHH!

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Do I even have anyone who cares?  
No I don't.  
I realized that today.  
It's true, that old saying.  
You learn something new everyday.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

In my very, verysmall clique Georgia hates Kirsten.  
Everyone hates Kirsten.  
But we are too nice to throw her out in the cold.  
She's a know-it-all, goody two shoes.  
Im not saying that's bad, but then, she complains, A LOT!

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

She complains about managing prefect duties.  
Look who's head girl!  
She complains about her stomach problems and twelve medications.  
Look who's diabetic!  
She complains about her mother.  
Look who doesn't have one!  
I don't say that though.  
Then i'll look like her, just asking for pity.  
She's not even asking, she's pleading.  
I really do hate her.  
We all do.

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Georgia can trash talk Kirsten one second .  
Yet, she talks and laughs with her as if she's her best friend the next.  
I dont get it, really I dont.  
She confuses me so damn much.  
It's not logical, to hang with someone you hate.  
Plus she ignores me when Kirsten's there.  
Either she hates me or doesn't hate Kirsten as musc as she says.  
I dont know anymore.  
It seems as if I dont know anything.

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It's all wrong.  
When one imagines thier life they see friends.  
Friends you can trust.  
They see a home.  
A happy home.  
They see fun times.  
Parties celebrations, all of it.

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When I imagine my life I see nothing.  
I see a cold black empty void.  
And it scares me.  
It scares me so damn much.  
I want my life to go somewhere.  
I just don't know how to get there.  
I dont even what life's worth living for.  
I never did.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

When I was younger I imagined life as all fun and games.  
I was wrong.  
All I see now is pain.  
Deep neverending pain.  
All work and no play.  
We work to live.  
To buy food and necessities, then we blow all the extra on holidays.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Sad really, how truly disturbing our lives are.  
I think of this place as hell.  
I think of parties and celebrations, peace and love as a utopia.  
As heaven.  
But what do I know. Life has never thrown a piece of heaven at me.  
Not properly anyway.  
Not without booze and drugs.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I want the parties like I used to have.  
With the cake and games, movies and sleeping bags.  
That's all I want.  
Even for one time.  
Is that to much to ask?  
I know it is.  
I can live without it, so I am.  
If I couldn't live without it I would have it.  
But I can, so I wont.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Those kinds of things are for others.  
For those with dreams and aspirations.  
For those with hope.  
For those who actually have a chance.  
A stab at true life.  
Those who can actually brave the evils of this world and still come out the way they went in.  
Those who have what it takes.  
Those who aren't me.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I could never do that.  
I am weak and I am helpless.  
All these years of living, as young as I am, have beat down upon me.  
Grinding me down to nothing, to no one.  
It's as if I no longer am.  
I've seen more then one should ever wish to see in a lifetime.  
All in sixteen short years.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I wonder, when i'm dead will I learn to cherish my life?  
I wonder, will I learn before then?  
Is life even worth cherishing?  
Am I taking my life for granted.  
Could it be something more, yet I'm too blind to see it.  
I don't know, I wish someone would tell me.  
Any day now...

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

They say that 95 percent of families are dysfuctional.  
I dont really care.  
It all depends on the kind of dysfunctional.  
One mental family member, big whoop.  
A divorce and two new marriages, big whoop.  
An abusive parent, big whoop.  
A pregnent sibling at 15, big whoop.  
The true dysfunctional is when you have multiple mixes, problems, issues between multiple members.  
I wouldn't know though, since i've lived with the latter all my life and have never dealt with a single issue at a time.  
You can call me a pity-pleading freak now, thank you.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I ponder all the people that go to Hogwarts and I wonder, what are their family problems?  
What could they possibly be?  
Are they like mine?  
Are they worse?  
Does anyone in Hogwarts have a perfect life?  
I've got a feeling that I know one.  
James Potter.  
Just a guess though, I may be wrong.  
I really don't care though, he'd still be the same to me.  
Arogant arsehole Potter, my pet name for him.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I know my life isn't as bad as I think it is.  
I know that.  
But, it's hard to remember that.  
It's hard to refrain myself from wondering.  
Why is my life this way?  
Why?  
Is it my karma?  
Probably, but why punish me.  
I don't even remember what I did.  
Who does?  
Oh right, I nearly forgot.  
I'm here to be the scapegoat, lucky me.

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	7. Unvieled Demise

**Bluferret**: Short chapter I know. Tell me again please! Tell me if you like the new format!

**Tragic Love**

**The true beginning of pain**

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I don't know where to go from here.  
I feel so lost.  
So off track.  
Everything is a blur.  
School.  
Friends.  
Life.  
A blur.  
-----------------------------------------  
I feel like as if nothing is in my control.  
I feel powerless.  
I have no say in my life it seems.  
I'm not going to try and control my weight.  
I've been there before.  
It's not fun.  
In my opinion it is the most painful form of suicide.  
My opinion doesn't matter much though.  
----------------------------------------  
I feel as if I am going in circles. Retracing my steps a thousand times over.  
Round and round I go.  
Routine is what it seems.  
Will it ever change?  
Could I ever change it?  
Will someone else ever change it?  
Sometimes I wonder.  
--------------------------------------------  
What is it like to be in love?  
Does it hurt?  
Is it the greatest gift you could be given?  
Is it happy?  
I feel as if I have never been happy.  
As if all my happy memories have run dry.  
A moat has been planted around my castle.  
My castle of memories.  
Theyre stored away in the highest room.  
In the dustiest corner.  
Waiting.  
Waiting to be renewed.  
I can't even remember if i've ever felt love.  
-------------------------------------------  
I feel so sad.  
I feel as if no one remembers who I was.  
In first year I was a happy child.  
I was an outgoing child.  
Does anyone notice the absence of my laugh?  
Does anayone notice the absence of my very voice?  
I feel as if I barely know anyone anymore.  
------------------------------------------------  
All strangers they seem to me.  
Puppets disguised as my friends.  
I see all of them as one.  
One giant puppet.  
They all seem the same.  
I can't pick out thier differences.  
Do they have any?  
Im beginning to think that i'm surrounded by clones.  
Ditzy clones.  
--------------------------------------------------  
I feel as if I am the only one with pain.  
I know i'm not.  
I know there are others.  
But where are they?  
I've been observing.  
Trying to find others like me.  
Others who yearn for something to live for.  
--------------------------------------------------  
I feel as if I am bieng to self piteous.  
I probably am.  
I just wanted you to know who I really was.  
Before.  
Before I became the person I died as.  
No matter who you start out as.  
You can always choose who you later become.  
In time I've learned this.  
But will I stick to it?  
In the end will it matter?  
Will it matter if I bacome someone else?  
-----------------------------------------------  
I feel as if I have no real life.  
As if I am watching from the outside in.  
My life is a window.  
I am the observer clearing away the frost.  
Clearing away the dust.  
Opening the door to my forgotten memories.  
-----------------------------------------------  
Back to the present.  
Also known as high up in the sky.  
Also known as the after life.  
-----------------------------------------------  
Perhaps I wanted to forget.  
Perhaps time just does it to the dead.  
I don't know.  
But I still feel the pain I felt then.  
It's just as strong.  
The dark times are over for me.  
I was lifted up.  
I fell in love.  
----------------------------------------------  
Yet, I stiil know the pain I endured before.  
Before I had someone who truly cared.  
Others feel the same pain.  
The pain I am sharing with you.  
I wish to let is all out.  
I haven't even told my lover any of this.  
He does not know of my past.  
Not all of it anyway.  
In time he will know.  
But for now all he needs is to know that i've changed.  
For now that is enough for him.  
But I know it is not enough for you.  
---------------------------------------------  
So although it hurts.  
More then any pain I have ever known.  
Even more then death.  
I will tell you.  
How it came to be.  
How I bacame in my own way a savior.  
--------------------------------------------  
I've told you the easy part up untill now.  
Now it gets deeper.  
It gets darker.  
It gets colder.  
Now I tell you the gruesome truth.  
------------------------------------------  
A girl's life.  
A girl without hope.  
A girl without love.  
A broken girl with no dreams.  
A girl with nothing to live for.  
The girl I was before James Potter.  
Before I even realized he cared.  
There's an after too.  
But I think you may already know it.  
--------------------------------------------  
The true hardcore beginning stars now.  
Are you ready to share my pain?


	8. Shadows Knowledge

Bluferret: Finally I can use the dividers withour getting a frozen computer!

Walking down the hall alll I see is grey.  
That may be because the walls are indeed grey.  
It may not.  
Only the shadows know.

* * *

Two years ago.  
It seems like forever.  
It was Christmas.  
Mom and I were both opening our money cards from my grandmother, her mother.  
"I got 100 dollars, what about you?"  
She slapped her card on the table, for good measure she slammed her mug down as well.  
It shattered.  
Thousands of glass shards flew about the air.  
She started to yell.  
"I don't know what they see in you! You're an absoloutely worthless little brat!  
I stared.  
Where had this come from?  
"You never do anything right"  
She had to rub it in?  
"I wish you were never born"  
What did I do?  
"You don't appreciate what you have. you are so self pitieous. I don't want to be around somebody like you"  
Was she drunk?  
Was she high?  
She went on and on.

* * *

I simply walked out.  
I let the cold envelope me.  
Oddly enough, it felt warm.  
I sat on the porch steps.  
I cried.  
There was nothing else I could do.  
An hour later I heard a thump.  
No biggie, I peeked inside anyway.  
Oh my god.  
Did I drive her to this?  
I screamed.  
And screamed.  
And screamed.

* * *

For there she lay on the floor.  
Normal.  
Untill of course you saw the knife protruding from her gut.  
Blood pooled around her.  
I hurled at least twice from the sight.  
I waited for the police and remembered.  
The last worde she spoke to me, "I hate you, your nothing but a worthless bitch"  
I don't even know what I did to deserve them.

* * *

Whenever I go home, for summer or winter break.  
They all avoid looking at me.  
Even Petunie pretends i'm not there.  
Perhaps they think I killed her.  
Perhaps not.  
Only the shadows know.

* * *

A week later I was able to return home.  
they kept us out, so they could investigate.  
I think that for a while they thought I killed her.  
Her money card still lay on the counter.  
I opened it.  
Twenty bucks.  
Please, tell me she didn't kill herself over Christmas money?  
They could've gotten mixed up.  
Only the shadows know.

* * *

I didn't mean to offend her.  
I didn't mean for her to commit suicide.  
Every day I wonder.  
If not for my mouth, would she still be here?  
God cried that day.  
An hour after her death.  
God cried.  
I sat outside as they wheeled her body into the ambulance.  
His tears fell in huge drops.  
They splashed about the ground in pools.  
I wonder if he blames me.  
If I believed in god, i'm sure he would.  
Blame me that is.  
Only the shadows know.

* * *

I was fourteen when dad died.  
He was drunk.  
He drove over a cliff.  
No one cared.  
Barely anyone was at the funeral.  
We have a huge family.  
Huge.  
Only 15 showed.  
For a moment you felt bad for him.  
But a moment is simply that.  
In general we were happy.  
He was a jackass.  
Why?  
Only the shadows know.

* * *

I can see it, the boulevard.  
I walk this empty street.  
On the Boulevard of broken dreams.  
(green Day-Boulevard of broken dreams)  
A dark neverending alley.  
The buildings are grey.  
They reach up forever, there are no entrances.  
The alley itself is about 40 feet wide.  
Along the sides of the alley are scattered white spheres.  
They're glowing and floating a few feet off the groumd.  
Each has a faded image, each is a broken dream.  
A broken memory.  
Thousands of them.  
Thousands of tears flow about the alley.  
The tears of all those broken people.  
All those broken people with the broken dreams.  
Could this be true?  
Only the shadows know.

* * *

Black and red.  
I love those colors.  
Dark, mysterious, secretive, seductive.  
Me.  
Although I don't think i'm very seductive.  
The world of me.  
It's cold here.  
Ice covers nearly everything.  
Step lightly, you could trip.  
You'll fall forever.  
It's easy to do here.  
Trust me.  
This ice, it's spreading.  
I'd let you into my icy palace.  
If only the doors weren't locked.  
Besides i'm rarely ever there.  
Rarely ever home.  
She wants to go home.  
But nobody's home.  
That's where she lies.  
Broken inside.  
(Avril Lavigne-Nobody's Home)  
Will I ever be?  
Only the shadows know

* * *

It's dark here.  
My exterior.  
Cool, calm, collected, sweet, average.  
You'd never really know me.  
Unless I told you.  
Which I wouldn't.  
I'm telling you, but hell, you're a diary.  
that's whet you do with those things, no?  
Dear, dear diary.  
I want to tell my secrets.  
Cause your the only one.  
That I know that will keep them.  
(Pink-Dear, dear diary)  
That's me.  
Cheesy, so i'm shutting up now.  
Would anyone spill my secrets?  
My dirty laundry?  
Only the shadows know.

* * *

Or maybe Mcgonagall knows.  
She sure does parade about like she does.  
Can you say bitch?  
Hate her.  
Then again I hate all teachers, don't I?  
Yes I do.  
Do they know?  
Only the shadows know. 


	9. Questions & Answers

**Bluferret:** This here is a Q and A chapter, since i've gotton so many questions, in which I shall now answer. If you've got a question, shoot! 

**PS** I realize that in some cases you may review to a story and never read it again. Which is the reason I have mantioned the actual reviews and questions I have recieved, rather then the reviewers themselves. Who knows, maybe you had the same question!

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**_Some people have made a fewGood Points, that I myself would like to point out..._**

**Good point number one**  
I like the start. It is realistic, but at the moment it is just a jungle of thoughts and not much order. There is also no plot, like I said, it is just thoughts. It is enjoyable but it goes nowhere after the 2nd chapter it just gets repetitive. It needs more of a story. I am not saying this to be mean, but just to add some constructive criticism.

**Response  
**I understand that it is constructive. It does help, it does. Yet, her thoughts are very important to the story later on. They are crucial if you will. Trust me we will be going somewhere soon. I just thought that you may want the backround info first, since otherwise I tend to confuse people. I've even confused myself! About the plot. I mentioned before and am mentioning again, life has no plot. This story has no plot. See the connection? Anywho as you may have guessed the plot will eventually be about love. Hence the title, Tragic Love. Tragic bieng her life, love bieng, obliviously, love.

**Good point number two  
**Ok first of all I love the way your going with this story. Second of all for those ppl who say that they think its to distracting, wake up and smell the flowers! Title Tragic Love. Tragic being the whole first part of the story and Love being the second part so just let bluferret finish writing her chapters!

**Response  
**Why thank you m'dear my sentiments exactly!

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**_Questions from you_**

**A reviewer asked**  
Where's Petunia?  
**I answered**  
Lily lived with her, untill of course petunia gave custody to her aunt. In which case she is currently nonexistent...Just kidding, she's probably on her honey moon, sucking the face off of Vernon...Nasty images here...

**A reviewer asked**  
Lily can send 67 people to jail? What happened? Are the tragedy's describing her?  
**I answered**  
Some of the tragedy's are describing her, others describe her family. Lily can send 67 people to jail. Her family. Those who have commited crimes, if you will.

**A reviewer asked  
**Is this going to be one of those Lily tries to kill herself, James stops her and falls in love with her and tries to get her over her problems kind of stories?  
**I answered**  
Lily has previously attempted suicide, but she is currently over that phase. Also known as, no it is not. Besides, I find it seriously deranged how one can fall in love with someone when they find them bleeding all over. You can feel pity, you can be disgusted, but love? I don't think so.

**A reviewer** **asked  
**Are you okay? I'm not meaning it badly but you must be some kind of 'insider' to write like this.  
**I answered**  
Maybe I am. Maybe i'm not. What would it matter?

**Multiple reviewers asked**  
Is Lily bieng abused?  
**I answered**  
Verbally not physically.

**A reviewer asked**  
When does she go to Hogwarts to get away from it all?  
**I answered**  
In chapter five she's in the car on her way to the platform. In chapter six she's actually at Hogwarts. Why she reflects on the horrors of her life when she is in her sanctuary is beyond me... Perhaps the emotional scars will stay with her forever. Perhaps they are to deep to be forgotton. Then again, perhaps not.

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**_Questions from me_**

**A reviewer wrote  
**Take away from the impact of what your saying.  
**I ask**  
Specify please!

**A reviewer wrote  
**I want my money. Oh and nice chappie. I'd have worked on its flow, do ya know whatI mean? Small bills, Thanx!  
**I ask**  
Does that mean you liked it or you didn't?

**A reviewer wrote  
**There's too many spelling mistakes.  
**I ask**  
There are? Runs in circles like a mad loon Oh my god! Why wasn't I told sooner? AAAAAAGGGGGHHHHHH!!!

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**_Reviews and reviewers I have to mention since I love them so much!_**

**Review**  
Wow. I really have to say wow. Your story is so deep, so emotional. Wow. Continue writing. Please. People have to know what it's like, how people out there feel. This story is one of the best I have read on this site. Please keep writing!  
**Response** I don't know about it bieng one of the best, but I must say your review sure brightened my day! Thanks much!

**Review**  
Wow. I'm supprised more people don't review to this, because it is one of- no, it is the best angst story I have ever read, including those written and published by professional authors. I can really understand, about having two personalities, one for one place, one for another, but not knowing how to get rid of one, to seperate who I really am from who I pretend to be. This story touches and understands people in a way that I rarely read, anywhere. The writing is excellent, the thought put behind each metaphore and explanation is so heartbreakingly correct that I can't get the breath back that was stolen from me when I started this story. It's so truthful that it hurts to consider. You have a gift, and I admire you greatly for that. Never give up expressing yourself through writing. You could go so far in life on this alone.  
**Response** Sniffles That's so sweet of you! Yet, once again I don't know about the best thing. Your review probably uplifted me the most out of all those i've recieved so far. Thank you. You honestly brightened my entire week.

**Reviewers i'd like to mention**  
Sugar Muffin  
TigerPrincess13  
Lillei  
haepotter  
James-RoxMySox  
TigerRose  
Pixi-kitty  
twistedtwin

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**_Thank you to all my reviewers, I absolutely love every single review I have recieved!_**


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